Misty roads

Driving these foggy roads, Faces rage in vapour from the mists,
Claws in vaporition grasp at me as I pass,
They hiss and swirl as I thunder through them,
Damping me with droplets contained within them, Obscuring my vision of the road home,
Dancing ghostly in a spectral dance of haunting,
Barring my passing through,
Clawing at me, to hamper my progress,
Dragging me back to them,
To journey below this damp cold earth, Through clay, rock and layers of our past,
To its molten fiery centre of screams and moans,
My just reward, for pain inflicted,
No standing in purgatory’s waiting room,
Fast tracked through express clearing,
Arms of my past, pushing me down,
Clothes melt, burn and combust,
Flames flay my skin, with white hot pain,
Exposing tendons and muscles, Taught in the grimace of final doom, Bare bones bleached and turned to ash,
To blow on winds of tomorrow, with yesterdays dust,
Gone unnoticed from this world of blinkered living,
Just one less faceless clone,
To clutter this tidy world,
Pre-programmed by controlled media,
To follow the golden carrot,
But now gone with out a trace, Now just wisp’s of mist on the night air.

Long stem Zebrano egg cup, For more see Bespoke Woods Facebook page


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